The Ghost and The Graveyard (The Monk's Hill Witch)

by Jack, Genevieve

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I knew Prudence when I was a baby. I couldn’t have passed her any magic.”

  “No, I think she worked with the old you. You were both nurses at St. John’s in your last life. That’s how you met each other before you were born.”

  I tried to wrap my head around the idea of being alive before, of having a relationship with Prudence when she was a young woman. “What does the witch even do? I saw that thing Rick turns into. I hardly think he needs my help.”

  A mug floated down from the cupboard and the cocoa poured itself, releasing tendrils of steam that curled oddly against the force that was Logan. Once the pan was back on the stove, his body formed and hardened into a solid-looking version of himself.

  He leaned his elbows on the counter. “Think of the cemetery as a prison for the unholy. The caretaker is law enforcement. The witch is the law. When a super steps out of line, she judges if they are guilty or innocent. If they’re innocent, they walk. If they’re guilty, she sentences them to the hellmouth. She decides. The caretaker enforces her decision.”

  I took a long deep drink. I wasn’t the judgmental type. Could I send a person’s soul to hell if I had to? I didn’t think so.

  “Rick said that when I was Isabella Lockheart I saved myself by storing a piece of my soul inside of him.”

  “Isabella made him the vessel to contain the immortal part of her outside of her human body.”

  I swallowed hard. “And Prudence has another part?”

  “Not a part of her soul but of her magic. Think of Rick as the key and you as the lock and the house as the box that holds the magic. Prudence took care of the box.”

  I wasn’t sure I followed his correlation, but I had a deeper question to ask. “But if a piece of my soul is in Rick and another part of who I was is in this house, what’s left inside of me?” My voice gave out with the last words but Logan seemed to understand anyway. Was I some kind of half person? Was I walking around with less of a soul than everyone else?

  He cupped my face with his hand, a warm tingle registering on my cheek. “Oh Grateful, some part of you may be Isabella Lockheart but another is Grateful Knight, a new person with a new body, living in a new time. If you don’t take up this burden, life will go on. The caretaker will make do, and the part of you that is the witch will transfer to another host. You have a choice. You don’t have to accept the power back. You don’t have to do this.”

  “I don’t have to be the witch?”

  “No.”

  I exhaled. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly but a rogue thought niggled at the back of my brain. I was forgetting something. I sipped my cocoa and pretended my insides weren’t writhing with unrest. It came to me with the rich chocolate aftertaste.

  “What about you? Why are you in the witch’s attic?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “She also sorts lost souls.”

  “Explain. Please.”

  “Sometimes people die unexpectedly and their souls don’t know where to go. The witch helps them. As the ruler of the hellmouth, she has the power to usher the supernatural between heaven and hell. She can do that for us ghosts too. She’s the only one who can do it for us.”

  The implications of what Logan said weaseled into my brain. “So, I’m supposed to sort you.”

  He nodded with the woeful expression of someone breaking bad news.

  “Do you want to be sorted?”

  He shifted his hip against the counter. “It depends. I’d rather not end up in hell.”

  I scowled at the possibility. “But I could decide that. How do I sort you?”

  “First you’d accept your power back from Rick and Prudence. Then you’d give me a name and command my soul in one direction or the other.”

  “I’ve already given you a name.”

  “It has to be my full name, and you have to accept the power first.”

  “Then how do I accept the power? How do I become the witch?” I asked.

  My ghost looked at the floor. His body flickered between levels of transparency. He didn’t answer me.

  “What are you keeping from me, Logan?”

  “I just don’t think you should be forced into something you might not want to do.”

  I slapped my hand on the counter and asked again. “When you say I need to accept the power back from Rick and Prudence, what does that mean?”

  Logan looked me in the eye. The thing about knowing a ghost is that you see straight through to their soul. Logan seemed to want nothing but the best for me.

  “Please, Logan. Let it be my decision. Tell me.”

  “You have to have sex with the caretaker.”

  I took a moment for that to sink in. So that’s why Logan had been so interested in my physical relationship with Rick; if I’d had sex with him, I might already be the witch. The thought of sex with the man who turned into that thing, that monster, made me nauseous. It must have shown on my face because Logan wrapped his hands around mine, a gesture that sent a soft vibration through my skin.

  “You don’t have to do it,” he said again.

  “Sex? That’s the only way?”

  “It’s not just sex, Grateful. It’s what the sex means. Because of what he is, he will take your blood. He will give you his. It’s a lifetime commitment to this role, to this state of being.”

  I grimaced. “Blood? Why does he need my blood?”

  “The caretaker is an immortal. He drinks blood, and drinking his blood will give you power.”

  “What, like a vampire?”

  “No, vampires are from the underworld. They live on blood like leeches and are not nearly as powerful as a caretaker. Rick can feed on blood, or the undead, or sex. He will drink your blood to bind you to him, not for nourishment.”

  My body stiffened. I was chilled from the bones out. More than anything, I just wanted to go home, to my first, real home with my dad, where everything was safe and taken care of. I didn’t want to be the Monk’s Hill witch. I certainly didn’t want to “do it” with a blood-sucking immortal who turned into a zombie-eating beast after dark. It was disgusting enough that I’d had oral sex with him.

  I stared into my finished hot chocolate, but there were no answers at the bottom of the mug. “Is it true that I was married to Rick? In another life?”

  “Yes. That is true. But you don’t have to make the same commitment in this one. You don’t have to make the same choices.”

  Logan’s face was close enough to mine that his energy created a static charge that pulled me toward him. His expression was pure concern. Ghost or not, Logan was an honorable man.

  I understood what he was saying. I even agreed to a certain extent. But I was a product of my upbringing, and I’d been taught not to shirk responsibility. I was in this mess because I’d decided not to file bankruptcy, to take full accountability for what happened with Gary. It wasn’t in my nature to take the easy way out.

  “Logan, what happens to you if you don’t get sorted?”

  He flickered in front of me but did not answer. The mug became much more interesting to him, and he refused to meet my eyes.

  “Tell me.”

  “If I’m not sorted, I stay here forever. The longer I stay in this state, the more attached I become to this life. By the time a new witch comes, it may be too late.”

  “I’m so sorry, Logan. How horrible for you to be at the mercy of my choice.”

  “No, don’t think that. I’ve enjoyed this time with you. It doesn’t scare me anymore to think of spending more time here, especially if you are here.”

  “You’d sacrifice your soul, your eternal rest, for my happiness?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  Sometimes in life there are easy decisions, where the right thing to do pops out at you. I had to decide between sex with a monster that would result in a lifetime of moonlighting as a witch, and living with the guilt of condemning the nicest soul I’d ever met to an eternity in my attic. As decisions went, this w
as one hell of a ding-dong.

  “I’ve got to think.”

  “Of course. A good night’s rest will make everything clear.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t think so. The best night’s sleep of my life wasn’t going to solve this dilemma. I retreated to my room and crawled into bed, exhausted from the weight of the day. Every sound terrified me. The wind picked up, and a branch scratching at my window filled me with terror. It was a common enough noise, but after tonight I pictured the things I’d seen in the graveyard making it. Sleep was impossible.

  After two hours of tossing and turning, I rolled on my back and whispered, “Logan?”

  “I’m here.” His voice came from the corner of the room and his body formed there.

  “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Since you went to bed. I like to watch you sleep.”

  “I’m not doing much sleeping. But it helps to know you’re here.”

  “I’m here, Grateful.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  He was suddenly standing next to the bed. “Yes.”

  “All night?” I asked.

  “All night,” he answered.

  I scooted to one side of the bed. As he slid in next to me, I knew he didn’t need to lie down but was doing it for my sake. I tried to close my eyes again, restless. Logan touched my face. Whatever he was made of brushed over me, an electrically charged feather, somewhere between a tickle and a purr. I reached for his hand and the density changed as my fingers passed through him, like plunging my hand into warm water.

  Before Logan, I would have assumed a ghost would feel cold, and his kiss did. But on the inside, it was different. My hand slid through his and he moved inside of my skin, like warm fur caressing toward my shoulder.

  “Mmm,” I said, closing my eyes. Amazing.

  He pressed closer, sinking his other hand into my side. Something low inside my body tightened. I arched into his hand and closed my eyes.

  “This is… I’ve never done this before. Am I hurting you?” Logan asked.

  “No. It feels good. Warm and tingly.”

  “Do you want me to keep going? I’m not sure what’ll happen, but I like it. It feels right.”

  Several things went through my mind at that moment. I told myself that having Logan inside of me was not “sex”—he didn’t have a body. And I needed comfort. I was a raw nerve, a frayed rope. Twelve hours ago I’d thought Rick might be “the one.” Now, he was a monster. My whole world had gone topsy-turvy and I was holding onto a ghost as if he were the most solid object in my universe.

  “Don’t stop, Logan,” I said.

  He leaned into me, quite literally. His entire form slid into my body, that plush electric buzz running just under my skin from my scalp to my toes. For a second, the pleasure was so intense that I couldn’t breathe. Inevitably, my body responded by growing wet, my nipples stretching my silk camisole.

  I took a long, deep breath. I had to get naked, to see if I could touch the purr that ran right under my skin. Lifting the camisole over my head, I writhed against the mattress and Logan rolled in response. Just pulling my silk shorts down sent a warm rush through me.

  I ran my hands over my breasts, tugging gently on my nipples, but the sensation happened from the inside out. Caressing lower, over my stomach, his hands followed mine on the other side of my skin. My fingers found the space between my legs, and so did Logan. He filled me with his power. I guessed he could be any shape or size he wanted to be, and right now he was exactly the right size to make every cell in my body call out for more.

  Allowing my knees to fall apart, I rubbed myself faster as the power surged in and out of me. A thousand fingers massaged up my back. His power explored my mouth and reached places I’d never found erotic before, the arches of my feet, the back of my knees, my inner thighs. I arched my back, throwing my head into the pillow.

  “More. Please. Don’t stop,” I cried. I spread my arms wide on the mattress and let his power drive into me. Hot thrusts pounded my body, throbbing, stroking in just the right places. I neared the great shimmering cliff. He coaxed me over the edge, and I came apart. The power of it pushed Logan out of my body. I writhed on the bed and watched him flicker next to me, pure wonder in his eyes.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” I breathed.

  “I wasn’t either.” His voice sounded weak, distant.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I think being inside of you has drained my energy. I’m sorry, I can’t stay. I need to rest.”

  And with that, he broke apart in a flash of light. The mist he was made of soaked into the ceiling, probably returning to the attic. I rolled onto my side feeling sated, and was surprised by a pang of guilt. For some reason, despite what I’d just done with Logan, my last thoughts before falling asleep were of Rick. Rick the monster. Rick, who’d used our connection to take advantage of me.

  Rick, who I was married to in a past life.

  Chapter 15

  Grave Matters

  There’s something addictive about having a cup of coffee and a hot breakfast prepared for you each morning. As I savored the berry crepes Logan had left for me, I considered that I couldn’t objectively make the decision to become or not become the witch on my own. I thought of the orgasm he’d given me the night before, sipped the perfect cup of coffee he’d made, and almost allowed myself to forget it was his eternal soul I was dealing with.

  I needed help. Someone who wasn’t afraid to give me a firm kick in the pants if it was warranted.

  I needed Michelle.

  For the sake of our friendship I decided not to tell her the entire truth. She would never believe me. But more than that, her specialty was mental health, and I didn’t want to end up in the state mental ward. I had to figure out a way to ask her without really asking her.

  I jumped in the shower. Usually the hot water was soothing, like I could wash away all of my worries, but today my insides crawled with unrest. Flashes of the last couple of days overwhelmed me. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the shower wall.

  “Are you okay?” Logan’s voice came from behind the shower door.

  I jumped a little at the sound. “Yeah. I was just thinking.”

  “Oh.”

  “How long have you been watching me shower?”

  My answer came in the silence.

  “Logan!”

  He gave a charming, boy-next-door laugh. “It’s one of the few advantages of being a ghost.”

  I turned off the water and reached for my towel. “I should have kept the bouquet of herbs from Rick. This whole time, I felt you watching me, but I thought it was all in my head. “

  “I’m sorry,” he said, contrite. “Now that I know it bothers you, I won’t do it again.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes. In fact, I’ll leave you now. It’s time for me to rest anyway. Have a good day.”

  “You too.”

  During the whole conversation, I’d never actually seen Logan. His voice had come from the empty corner of the bathroom. But I could tell when he wasn’t there anymore. Some part of me had sensed him even before he’d spoken. A weight in the middle of my chest, as if I’d forgotten something important, came and went with his presence. This was new. While I hadn’t recognized the feeling until it vanished, I was sure I would in the future.

  Was I changing? Becoming more sensitive to the otherworldly? It made sense that I might. I’d heard it took professional wine tasters years to perfect their ability to separate out complex flavors and aromas. Maybe I was developing a taste for the supernatural.

  I tossed on a pair of ruby red scrubs and tied my hair back into the tightest ponytail I could, not a hair out of place. In my head, I thought through the events of the night before with painful clarity. I needed to fix this. I needed a plan.

  Rain pelted the Jeep as I backed out of the garage and onto the street. I crossed the stone bridge. My heart sank when I neared Rick’s place. Th
e wind chimes creating a cacophony in the storm. Emotions flooded me, a confusing concoction of anger, unrequited passion, fear, and an odd and unexpected longing. Between the rain and the mist welling up in my eyes, I didn’t notice Rick standing in the middle of the road until it was too late.

  I slammed on the brakes. The Jeep skidded sideways on the wet asphalt, knocking me against the door. I screamed with horror as I plowed into Rick. Only, there was no collision. At the moment of impact, he dissolved into a smoky mist and reformed behind the revolving metal of my vehicle.

  Wearing nothing but black jeans and a trench coat, he reached forward and, in the blink of an eye, grabbed my rear bumper, stopping the Jeep’s momentum. He saved me from an almost certain roll in the ditch. My heart pounded. He approached through the sheets of rain, his dark silhouette slicing though the storm.

  Before I had a chance to say a word, he was sitting beside me in the passenger’s seat. He’d never opened the door.

  I gasped, pressing myself against my window and clutching at my chest, as if the personal CPR could coax my heart into beating again. “I didn’t know you could do that,” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I can do anything they can do. I am the balance.”

  Over his shoulder, the entrance to the cemetery seemed to taunt me with its daytime innocence. “You mean, because the demons can become a mist, you can become a mist.”

  He nodded. “I can dematerialize like a vampire, I’m fast like a ghoul, strong as a zombie, and there are other things.”

  I refrained from asking about the other things. I wasn’t ready to know. “So, if the vampires developed the ability to travel through time, you would suddenly be able to travel through time?”

  “Yes. Although I sincerely hope that particular skill evades them.” He leaned forward, crossing the center console and entering my personal space. “I am the caretaker and in order to do my job, my power has to balance the evil. Balance is a natural law that applies to the supernatural. The only power uniquely mine is the beast.”

  “Oh.” He was so very close. The intensity of his stare left me uneasy.